Tag: Review in Chapters

We are nearing the end of this widely read and loved novel written a couple of hundred years ago.

I will start where I left off: So Lydia and Wickham are finally married and they visit Longbourn before the Wickhams move to the North. Lydia is pretty much the same: prancing, gloating, loud and generally disagreeable. Oh, Mrs Bennet is all joy, but she is the only one, I daresay.
When Lydia drops a hint that Mr Darcy was present at her wedding, Lizzy immediately writes a letter to Mrs Gardiner in hopes that her aunt might enlighten the matter. She then learns that it had been Darcy who has found Lydia and Wickham, as well paying Wickham’s debt and giving him the money so he could get them married.
Mrs Gardiner writes –

“[…] I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself […] But in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for another interest in the affair. […]
Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before) how much I like him. […] His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him.
[…] Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing. […]” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 52)

Isn’t she sweet? Yes, she does not waste time dropping hints all over, but that endeared her to me even more.

Funny is Lizzy’s father’s reaction to this revelation (after Lizzy and Darcy become engaged and have asked Mr Bennet for his consent):

“This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and got him his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing, I must and would have paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 59)

So the Wickhams are off, and a rumor make its round that Mr Bingley is scheduled to come back to Netherfield. And indeed he does – with his friend Darcy at his heels. This turns the whole Bennet household upside down (excepting Mary and Mr Bennet, probably) and the eldest two Miss Bennets are nervous for different reasons.
It takes only a couple of visits for Bingley and Jane to re-recognize their feelings for each other, and with Darcy’s blessing, the couple meets their happy end.

For Lizzy and Darcy, the circumstances are more vexing, because they circle around each other in cautious steps, as if stepping an inch more forward would burn their toes. So when Darcy does not approach her at gatherings and nor gives her any sign of his affection other than silent stares, Lizzy goes back and forth between expectation, hope and despair, like any young girl in love for whom it is uncertain whether the emotion is reciprocated. Here is an example of her agitated state:

“Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for being so silly!
‘A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a wekaness as a second propsal to the same woman? […]'” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 54)

After Bingley’s proposal to Jane (although we don’t get to read how exactly it was done, as the room in which it happened was vacant save for the lovers), Mrs Bennet is dancing in joy – but the only compliment she can pay to her daughter is this – “I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so, al last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing!” Very nice, Mrs Bennet.

Darcy leaves Longbourn without having said anything of importance to Elizabeth. Soon the latter is visited by the former’s aunt, who has heard (from Mr Collins, as it turns out, who has heard it from the Lucases) that Darcy and Elizabeth might get / are already engaged to each other. She storms in, takes Lizzy out to the garden, and starts talking about how Darcy and her daughter were meant for each other from infancy and how marrying Lizzy will bring disgrace and doom to his name and to Pemberley. When Lizzy – who, I might add, is a fine match for Lady C. in verbal argument – refuses to declare that she does not intend to marry him, Lady Catherine bursts out: “You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?” (Chapter 56)

Ironically enough, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s interference is what seals the happiness of the couple: Darcy, having heard from his aunt what has happened, harbors a hope which he puts into words in following way –

“It taught me to hope […] as I has scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 58)

And here is the second proposal, which, this time, is readily and immediately accepted.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 58)

Darcy also talks about his pride in following manner:

“‘[…] I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves […], allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for non beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. […]'” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 58)

This confession clears quite a few of misconceptions in my mind. When I watched the BBC serialization, and later tried to read the book, I only thought Pride and Prejudice as a love story. To my defence (not that I want one), this, I think, is the general impression on many people; Darcy and Elizabeth are perceived as one of the best couples, and the novel one of the best love stories.
I also used to think that Mr Darcy was in the right, and Lizzy in the wrong. She got all that Wickham business mixed up and accused Darcy – after that problem is cleared up, they confirm their love for each other and live their happily ever after. Oversimplification. This view also casts, inarguably, a unfavorable light over Lizzy.

That was then. Now I think Pride and Prejudice is a novel about people and criticism on their behavior and faults, just like many other novels. The love story is just an added element that was necessary and more interesting to the storyline. It does not take rocket science to figure out that Darcy stands for the pride part and Elizabeth the prejudice one in the title. But the important fact is that these two characters come to understand their critical flaws and change – fueled by humility, gratitude, and love. That’s where the love element comes in – it acts as a catalyst to start a reaction.
I am sure there are more messages centering around minor characters (Mr and Mrs Bennet as well as the other Bennet sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, Mrs Forster, etc.) but I do not wish to go into all the details.
I just want to add that as a contemporary reader, Pride and Prejudice, like other classics, has given me an insight to the strict social procedure that Austen makes fun of, and to the situation for women (see Charlotte and Lydia).

As a reader, I have the right not to analyze a book. I have the right to simply enjoy, to let the words wash over my mind and not scrutinize them in hopes of glimpsing the meaning behind them.
(<- Alas, I could not help but do this.)
Because there were so many things that caught my attention in those ten chapters (about 56 pages) so this post will be long.

Soon after Lizzy’s return to Longbourn, Lydia receives an invitation from Mrs Forster (the wife of Colonel Forster) to stay with the regiment in Brighton, who is scheduled to move in fortnight. Upon hearing this, Lizzy immediately seeks her father and says:

“Our importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia’s character.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 41)

She then pleads her father to do something with Lydia and her character before she brings ridicule upon the whole family.

Do not these words remind you one someone else’s?
My brain traced them back to a certain gentleman’s, who criticized “the total want of propriety so frequently” (Chapter 35, in Darcy’s letter) from all members of her family except for Jane. (He is very severe on etiquette and how one behaves oneself to outside, isn’t he? I think Darcy wouldn’t have survived the 21st century.) He named this criticism as one of the factors why he discouraged Bingley’s intention.
I’ve seen Lizzy cringe inwardly and outwardly as her younger sisters embarrassed her and her family but never before has she spoken so frankly about the collateral (or rather the main) damage the family must be suffering from. Maybe Darcy’s words have made her see her situation through different eyes.
There is another change in Chapter 42, when Elizabeth mentions “the impropriety of her father’s behaviour as a husband”. Apparently Mr Bennet had married Mrs Bennet for her youth and beauty, and when he found out how intolerable her chatters could be, well, it was too late. Since then, he just amuses himself with her fits of hysteria and ignorance, otherwise he retreats to his library and peace. While Lizzy perfectly understand his reasons for his behavior, she has “always seen it with pain” because he let her lose her respect among her own children and in the society. This is the first time Lizzy openly criticizes her father’s faults.

But there have been changes in Darcy, too. After the regiment’s leave (and an awkward conversation between Lizzy and Wickham, who, after abandoning Mary King as a suitable prospect, has turned to Lizzy for “idle and frivolous gallantry” – and thus has brought further disgust to her), Lizzy leaves with the Gardiners, her uncle and aunt, for Derbyshire because their original plan for the Lakes fell through. They stay a few days in Lambton, a town in which Mrs Gardiner grew up in. And a town not far away from Pemberley, whose grounds they decide to explore after ensuring the master won’t be there.
It is from the housekeeper that the party of three hears what a good master, landlord, brother and gentleman he is; he is also a well-tempered man, Mrs Raynold says, never having said a cross word to her in their twenty-something years of acquaintance. Elizabeth, who has known him only as either a standoffish or a passionate man, is much surprised by this praise of character.
Everyone is surprised when Darcy makes a sudden appearance, having returned earlier than scheduled. Lizzy fears he might hate her for that fateful afternoon, so she is astonished when he addresses her “if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.” (Chapter 34) When they meet each other the second time while taking a walk, he asks Lizzy to introduce her friends to him, and when she reveals the family connection, she expects him to turn away from “such disgraceful companions”, as they were the “very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself.” Yet against this expectation Darcy continues to walk with them, as if chatting with people of lower standing didn’t irk him at all (really, what is it with him and his strict social role?). Darcy treats them with respect and civil manner, which pleases and amazes Lizzy. It must be added that while not rich (I’d say middle-class?), there is no fault to be found in Mr and Mrs Gardiner’s manner and behavior.
The ultimate proof of Darcy’s opinion of Lizzy is his request to get her acquainted with his sister, Georgiana. Darcy is a very protective and loving brother to Georgiana, and wouldn’t let anyone go near her who didn’t have his approval. (Also, Georgiana later reveals that she has heard so many good things about Elizabeth that a string of complaints about Lizzy from Caroline Bingley couldn’t taint her opinion of Lizzy.)

All seems to be going well when Lizzy receives dreadful news from Longbourn: Lydia and Wickham have eloped, but they show no sign of getting married. Lizzy is wished back and the assistance of Mr Gardiner most fervently sought after. Mr Darcy sees Lizzy in great agitation and after relating the matter, he offers his consolation (which is useless, and he knows it) and leaves. She later regrets having told him about the affair, as she believes that her chances “must [be] sink[ing] under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace” and comes to realize that “never ha[s] she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, when all love must be vain.” (Chapter 46) Well, Lizzy is finally catching up, I’d say. And if we were talking about the Old Darcy, I might just agree with her. But as the New Darcy has just as much changed as Lizzy’s opinion of him, and since he had defended her against Caroline’s sharp words quite admirably, her desperation is rather unfounded. But of course Lizzy doesn’t know of this little incident.

So Lizzy and the Gardiners make their way back as quickly as possible, and a search party (comprised of Mr Bennet and his brother-in-law) is sent for London.
At first the eloped (unofficial) couple is not to be found, and a letter from that Mr Collins arrives. I would have skipped over this insignificant person’s letter if it hadn’t been so offensive. He writes –

“[…] No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune – or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the most afflicting to a parent’s mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this.
[…]
And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. […]” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 48)

How arrogant, how egoistic, is that? And why write such a mean and condescending letter at all? Seriously, this Collins is just… despicable. (I know it was a big no-way-no-how to live together without getting married till latter part of the 20th century, but to wish a child of another person dead? That’s just not done, even if it was meant to be kind for that person.)

Moving on. In the end, Mr Gardiner finds those two runaways and implies that if Wickham’s debts were paid off and Lydia’s annual income granted, he would be willing to marry her. The problem now is how Mr Bennet should scrape 10,000£ together to pay back Mr Gardiner, who, it is generally believed, already paid off Wickham. When Mr Bennet mentions this to his wife, she replies: “it is all very right; […] and it is the first time we have ever had anything from him [Mr Gardiner, a.k.a. her brother], except a few presents. Well! I am so happy! In a short time I shall have a daughter married.” And so on. Isn’t that an impudent reaction? She does not even have it in her to be grateful.

This review ends with a remark on one aspect of the British language as portrayed in the book that I found strange: While in a conversation, both Jane and Lizzy refer to “my mother” and “my uncle” and so on, but never “our mother”. Was it so uncommon to say “our”?

Favorite quotes from this section:

“[Elizabeth] wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all; and in [this] object, where she feared most to fail, she was must sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 44, Lizzy upon receiving the three visitors in her room a the inn)

“She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man, who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 50)

So this section contains Chapter 34, The Big Moment of First Proposal, and Chapter 35, The Big Revelation of Wickham’s wicked nature.

But first let’s trace back to the three chapters preceding the anticipated (or, from Elizabeth’s point of view, not anticipated) moment.
The arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy’s cousin, causes a small ruckus at the Parsonage and Rosings. The colonel is described as “about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 30) It also says that “Mrs. Collins’s pretty friend ha[s] […] caught his fancy very much.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 31) Lizzy is flattered by attention, and enjoys his company highly, as opposed to his cousin’s. But Colonel Fitzwilliam is the younger son of an Earl, and as such, he cannot marry whomever he wants (unless the woman of his dreams is a rich heiress).
But regardless of this tiny entanglement, the point is that Lizzy comes to trust Colonel Fitzwilliam, which later serves as a reliable back-up source to Mr. Darcy’s letter.

Okay, so let’s talk about Darcy’s awkward proposal. I say awkward because obviously Lizzy wasn’t expecting such a thing and what happened after was an ugly scene.
So after pacing around the room, Darcy says:

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 34)

He then follows to list her unfortunate (read: non-existent bordering on embarrassing) family connections and low social standing compared to his. But he loves her despite this! Oh joy! Any other lady would have fainted by now.
But not our Lizzy, for she replies with spirit: “In such cases as this, […] [i]t is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot – I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.” (Chapter 34) Bam! That was a hard shot at Darcy, who has been fully expecting a “yes”, but Lizzy is not done.

“I might as well inquire […] why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? […] I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.” (Chapter 34)

She then challenges him to deny her accusations against him regarding Wickham and his (Darcy’s) interference concerning Jane and Bingley. Boom – Darcy explodes. Well, not really, because his self-control is much better than mine, but in heated words, he turns to Elizabeth and says:

“And this […] is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! […] My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps […] these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. […] But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. […] Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? – to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?” (Chapter 34)

To which Elizabeth coldly replies:

“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.” (Chapter 34)

And, the final strike.

“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.” (Chapter 34)

Meltdown.
Well.
Apparently Mr. Darcy thinks that his full honesty no one wants to hear will win Lizzy over, because, obviously she is so undesirable to anyone else but he loves her. I can’t really fault Lizzy for bristling over this. Who wants to hear that kind of harsh condescension, how true it may be? For his defence, I think Darcy meant what he said: The downsides of such union is more than canceled out by his love for her. See how better it sounds? And it still is the same truth.
The thing is, Darcy prides himself over the fact that his manners and etiquette are textbook-perfect. He cringes whenever someone commits a social faux-pas. But in this case? Lizzy was right; he was most un-gentelman-like. Also, hypocritical much? Darcy prevented Bingley from doing the same – marrying for love yet at the same time marrying someone with a low social standing. It’s like “What is bad for you is bad for me, but you still cannot do it, because you’re my best friend, but I will do it nonetheless.”
I do not mean to say that Lizzy’s reaction was an acceptable performance. I know she thinks very ill of him, and I understand her anger at being patronized, but the way she emotionally wounded him (he’s crazy in love! Of course she has the upper hand here, and everything she says is another blow to his heart.) was just mean.

Now the Big Question: Why does Mr. Darcy love Elizabeth Bennet? I mean, she‘s presumptuous and rude to him, he‘s proud and anti-social, not to mention socially awkward. Maybe he was taken by her lively spirit and openness to making fun of people, including herself. But still, I’ll be damned if I figure this puzzle out. Love is not logical. It just isn’t. (Or, love just is.)

Oh, but we are only halfway done. The letter, and the aftermath.
In the first part of the letter, Mr. Darcy explains his role in separating Bingley from Jane. To prevent his friend from entering a marital union with a woman of a lower standing (although, as Darcy puts it, “the want of connection could not be so great an evil to [Bingley] than to [Darcy]”*, so if Bingley hadn’t listened to Darcy, he and Jane would be happily married by now.), Darcy managed to convince Charles that Jane’s affections for him were not as strong as Bingley might have thought. Darcy indeed does believe this to be true; although he later acknowledges that since Lizzy knows her sister better than he, he might be in fault in this one matter.
On the second subject Darcy tells his version of the story: Wickham as a careless man with an extravagant living style; his demand to Darcy to give him three thousand pounds instead of other preferments in Darcy’s father’s will after his death; Wickham, after rejecting one profession after another, asking Darcy for what was written in the will (which he, in exchange for 3000£, threw away); and finally, after Darcy’s refusal, the planning and almost successful execution of seducing Georgiana, Darcy’s more-than-10-years-younger sister.
Now Elizabeth is confronted with two men’s stories, and with sinking feeling does she begin to see the holes in Wickham’s story, and how no one in Hertfordshire really knows about his past other than himself. Also, Darcy’s assurance that she very well may ask Colonel Fitzwilliam about this matter as he, a joint guardian of Georgiana and one of the executors of the will, knows about this matter, convinces Lizzy that Mr. Darcy must be telling the truth.
This realization shames her very much ans she says:

“How despicably I have acted! […] I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 36)

Well, Lizzy is no less honest than Darcy, I daresay. In this monologue she acknowledges the injustice she has done to Mr. Darcy because her vanity (Remember Mary’s distinction between pride and vanity?) was injured the first time she met him. And Lizzy does not give herself the easy way out, because she knew she hadn’t been in love with Wickham, so there is no excuse to fall back on. Her blindness to reason resulted in humiliation, but a just one, as she says. In this moment, Lizzy sees herself really for the first time (“Till this moment I never knew myself.”). I mean, we knew that she was being stubborn and giving Darcy a hard time, but only because we already knew the outcome. But Lizzy realizes for the first time how her rashness in opinion has kind of led her to doom, so to speak. In this regard she is no different than Darcy, who once said “My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.” (Chapter 11) They both don’t budge an inch. Well, until now, that is, hopefully.

Two more short points on this section that are kind of independent from Mr. Darcy’s proposal and his letter.
After the two Fitzwilliams leave, Lizzy can’t help but think about what Lady Catherine would have said or how she would have looked if she had accepted Darcy’s proposal. For me this little musing serves as an evidence of consistency. It would have been out of character if Lizzy had been all demure and full of regret that she could not even entertain the thought of the alternative what-if. That would be more Jane, but not our Lizzy.
Speaking of Jane, it is said in Chapter 40 that “[h]aving never even fancied herself in love before, [Jane’s] regard [for Bingley] had all the warmth of first attachment, and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most first attachments often boast …” I thought this one was interesting.

*And Darcy managed to put this “evil” aside due to the “utmost force of passion” – no one can say the guy isn’t honest.

So in Chapter 5, our heroine Christie Devon starts a new job as – ironically enough, considering her earlier statements – a carer for an invalid girl, Helen Carrol. Helen is emotionally distraught, the reasons for which we learn rather later in the chapter. Anyway, Christie works her usual charm by being patient, kind and loving, and becomes a confidant not only for Helen but for the whole Carrol family. I found this chapter of Christie’s life touching and somewhat dramatic. I won’t go into details lest I spoil every last flash of surprise!

After a well-deserved rest to restore her drained yet content self, Christie takes up the work as a seamstress and slowly befriends a silent girl named Rachel, who seems to be craving friendship so much but is reluctant to enter into any. Rachel carries a dark secret that comes to light later in a public manner. But before that happens, Christie and Rachel become very good friends and Christie is the only one who does not abandon her. She speaks:

“Mrs. King, if you send her away, I must take her in; for if she does go back to the old life, the sin of it will lie at our door, and God will remember it against us in the end. Some one must trust her, help her, love her, and so save her, as nothing else will. Perhaps I can do this better than you,—at least, I’ll try; for even if I risk the loss of my good name, I could bear that better than the thought that Rachel had lost the work of these hard years for want of upholding now.”

A Christian gesture or the goodness of her heart? I think it’s a little bit of both. If Alcott wrote this novel in hopes of inspiring other people to be more like Christie, I’m afraid she was overly optimistic. I cannot speak for people from her era, but I’ll be presumptuous enough to claim that this book won’t have the desired effect in many people. Christie’s almost too good to be true; even though she does go through hard phases in her life, she still does so with innate good nature, unwavering moral and diligence. She’s certainly admirable, but not relatable.

In the seventh and eighth chapter, she tries to find her way “through the mist” (the aptly named title of Chapter 7). She is what I’d call “burnt-out”: she finds her life devoid of useful meaning, fails to make a real connection to God through churches (not-so-subtle critiques here) and is tight on money because people aren’t as honest as she is and finding works as an independent seamstress is hard. Plus she’s been through an illness that has weakened her body and mind. Why she hasn’t gone back to being a governess I do not know.
In this state Christie meets Rachel again, and is introduced to Mrs. Wilkins, a cheery woman with a big family, who, if not rich in the sense of materialism, is rich in spirit. From her and her children Christie finds healing her spirit much needed.

My problem throughout the whole story so far is that I still haven’t been able to connect with Christie. She’s just a girl who’s two-dimensional because I can’t imagine her living in a real world. She does change her world and the people she comes across through the goodness of her heart but at the same time she’s duped by others because of that naïvety. Oh, she exasperates me sometimes by firmly believing that she may just as well die but she will trust a stranger with her whole heart – well, trust away, my dear, for they are the ones who are holding the noose by refusing to pay you the money you have rightfully earned.
I’m all hooray for being a trusting person who has faith in others but being too selfless – sacrificing one’s life (to be dramatic) so you die with a clear conscience – is just stupid because it’s suicidal. But Christie, you are more than welcome to disagree with me.

Gloom settles over the Bennet sisters and the readers with the introduction of two men and a proposal from one.

Wordsworth Editions

After Jane’s recovery, Mr. Bingley gives at Netherfield a ball, just as he promised. But before the Bennets can enjoy it, the arrival of their relative, Mr. Collins, who is set to inherit the Longbourn estate after Mr. Bennet’s death, prevents the happiness of some. Mrs. Bennet couldn’t be happier for Mr. Collins intends to choose one of his fair cousins as his wife, and has set his eyes on Lizzy (after being dissuaded from Jane, who, Mrs. Bennet thinks, will marry Mr. Bingley very soon), her least favorite child.

Before I go on with the plot and the introduction of the antagonist, let me tell you how unpleasant I think Mr. Collins is.
He, a clergyman and protégé of Lady Catherine de Bourgh (incidentally also Darcy’s aunt), seems to think he is a humble man with all good attributions of a gentleman. I for one found the fact that he compliments himself for making nice complements to others (the majority of which goes to Lady Catherine) disgustingly vain and self-centered. Mr. Bennet thinks this is funny; I do not. I am exasperated by his hidden air of superiority, as shown at the Netherfield ball when he tells Elizabeth: “… in this case [whether he should introduce himself to Mr. Darcy (Lady Catherine’s nephew), who has no idea who Collins is] … I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 18) In short, because Lizzy is a young woman with no profound education unlike himself, her judgment on proper etiquette is ignored (because it was considered rude to introduce oneself to a stranger without a conduit doing the work). Well, turns out Lizzy was right in thinking Mr. Darcy will turn away in contempt after a while.
Also at the Netherfield ball, Collins starts to give a lengthy speech about what hard works a clergyman – thus talking about himself – has to fulfill and so on. How can a person be so full of himself that all he can talk about his own life and the generosity of his patron?
The list of his unpleasantries goes on: When Mr. Collins proposes to Lizzy, he’s secure in her answer, thinking that his well-established life and income will be enough to woo over his cousin, who will have a meager (read: practically non-existent) income after her mother’s death. He talks about his reasons – Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s insistent wish that he marry; his noble intention to do his cousins as little harm as possible in inheriting the estate by marrying one of them; his own increased happiness. But nowhere in his pages long speech do I find a promise of making her happy. It’s all about him, him, him. She’s more like an adornment, an armcandy. So yeah, I don’t like his character at all. But his negative assets were well displayed and described.

Chapter 15 sees to introducing George Wickham with the following words: “… [T]he attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man […] of most gentlemanlike appearance … All were struck with the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be; … His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.”
To the dismay of most readers, I daresay, Elizabeth takes up instant liking to this young man who seems at odds with Mr. Darcy. By this point, Lizzy has already made up her mind regarding Darcy, so when Wickham dishes up a tale about Darcy wronging him, she is ready to believe him. At one point, she raises the question “How strange! … I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest – for dishonesty I must call it.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 16) Say what you will, Elizabeth knows how Darcy’s mind works by now. Mr. Wickham smoothly replies with “… But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.” We all know that Wickham is a liar – not the first-time reader who has never heard of the story before but even then, perhaps he or she has heard of the couple ‘Elizabeth and Darcy’, so he cannot be such a bad person as Wickham describes, right? Yet Wickham disguises his lies so well with enough truth mixed in, so that it all appears to be just as he says. And our stubborn Elizabeth wholeheartedly believes him, and will do so for some more time. (I have to confess, though, Wickham’s tale does sound quite believable, under the circumstances.) She is already prejudiced against Mr. Darcy; and due to her ill opinion of Caroline Bingley, an advice of caution goes wasted.

I’d like to dedicate my last line to Mrs. Bennet, who, of all people, says bitterly while referring to herself: “Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.”

I realized that it is impossible to review a classic chapter by chapter (almost) without spoiling anything. So read on your own risk.

In the sixth chapter, we meet a troubled boy of 14 years, Dan. He is a sullen boy with a hard past, I reckon, and his rough, street side of him comes out every now and then. He means well, even though he will let no one hear him say so. He’s used to scoffing at authority and ignoring rules, and after a prank too many, he is sent away, which troubles Jo much.
My heart breaks for Dan, for he is a good boy deep down, and he was so good and tender with Teddy! Anyone who loves a baby like he does can’t be a bad person within. I do understand Mr. Bhaer’s concern, though, that he is a “bad” influence for other, especially younger, boys. I do wish he will come back, like Jo believes in it.

In the chapter 7, we meet yet another new character, Annie Harding aka “Naughty Nan”. At Mrs. Bhaer’s suggestion, Plumfield welcomes her. Nan tries to be equal to the boys and does everything they dare her to. She’s wild and sassy, and also smart. I initially had trouble getting used to Nan, she’s so loud and quick!

In the next two chapters all sort of plays the children cooked up are displayed. As far as I know, Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Men (as well as Little Women) with an audience of young children (similarly aged as the young protagonists of this book) in mind, which especially shines through in these two chapters. (Personally, I found them a little bit boring and distracting. Shhh, don’t tell anyone.) You can also see that in the way Alcott writes: in easy, simple sentences that manage to pierce through your head and heart at the same time.

In the tenth chapter one of my favorite lads “comes home” (he says so) and finally a spot on his heart not yet smudged by the ugliness of the world has opened to the place he feels peaceful at. You can really see him (Dan, if it wasn’t clear) going through the changes this time, and it touched my heart. I can’t wait to see how it goes on.

Little Men is a very moral book; while there is no preacher preaching the Ten Commandments, Mrs. Jo and Mr. Fritz manage to tend to the children’s body, soul and mind so well that they integrate respectful behavior, diligence, religion, hard work and good play into their subconscious beings. I admire Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer for being so patient, kind and loving – they were meant to open a school like Plumfield, and how fortunate for them and the children that they did!

In Louisa May Alcott’s Work, we meet a young woman of twenty-one called Christie Devon, who lives with her Uncle Enos and Aunty Betsey. Her parents married for love and died early, leaving Christie in her uncle’s care.
Our protagonist longs to be independent – financially and socially. So one day while baking with her aunt, Christie declares that she will move out soon. As predicted, she gets no objection from her uncle and plenty of worry from her aunt. Christie has this fiery passion and endless dreams; she wants to “earn … the best success this world can give us, the possession of a brave and cheerful spirit, rich in self-knowledge, self-control, self-help.” (Work: A Story of Experience, Chapter 1) She can’t hold it out any longer in a town filled with girls whose biggest aspirations are getting married and owning pretty dresses.

After moving out, Christie stays at a what we’d call now a motel, I guess, (with the 100$ given to her by uncle Enos) and tries to find a work. At last she is hired by a Mrs. Stuart and befriends the black cook, Hepsey Johnson, who has been shunned by other maids because of her race. While being a swift, hard-working and cheery maid to the Stuarts, Christie starts to observe the master and the mistress of the house and their guests and point out their tedious repeating rituals. She also helps Hepsey learn to read and count.

A year passes while Christie is at service. Due to a fiery accident (that’s when the famous -is it famous? I’ve often seen it on GR- quote: “She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.”) she is dismissed by Mrs. Stuart. When Christie stumbles on an actress Lucy, who encourages her to audition for a vacant role, and Christie hesitantly accepts, and soon pours her heart and mind into her new-found passion.

In the fourth chapter Christie leaves the theater behind and becomes a governess. I enjoyed this longer chapter more than the previous one; perhaps because I am less interested in the world of acting. I also found Christie’s answer to Mr. Fletcher’s proposal highly engaging, as her opinion about Jane from Jane Eyre already shows that she has no intention of accepting even though she herself realizes it later. I would have wished to read more about how Christie got acquainted with children and what she did to make them like her!

My impression so far

Work: A Story of Experience is quite different from what I’ve read so far from Louisa May Alcott and also from what I’d expected. I don’t know whether the Experience in the title refers to Alcott herself or Christie’s life (perhaps a little bit of both), but this novel is turning out to be the life story of the protagonist.
The pacing is fast; a year passes in one chapter, and in one page we learn the world is now three years older than in the page before. I had a trouble with that, as the effects of this furious pacing were that we as readers got only the result, not the process. For example, we read that Christie is having quite a bit of success in acting. And she and Lucy have become awkward with each other. It’s an statement. We don’t actually get to see how it started or whether Christie ignored the signs. The last chapter, titled “At Forty”, takes place when she’s 40, I assume, so we have to pack 20 years into one volume, so on average every chapter has to take on one year of Christie’s life.

My second -and bigger, and related to the first- problem was Christie itself. That girl (actually a woman a couple of years older than me) is cheerful, optimistic, strong-willed and open-minded, almost to the point of being robotic in her sunshine-ness. I find it hard to find faults in her, which normally would make a great book with an impeccable heroine, Christie almost doesn’t feel human because her moral and conscience are spotless. There is no anxious despair after being fired; there is no tearful goodbye to Hepsey. No, after nearly burning her room down (and getting suffocated in sleep by the smoke), she starts to laugh at the absurd dance Mr. Stuart is having in order put the fire out. Yeah, I was bewildered.
Only her indignation at having to polish shoes (a job which a boy should do, in Christie’s opinion) and her quiet horror at seeing what a selfish and fame-seeking actress she has become are indicators that Christie is, thank goodness, a human. Still, she feels so… wooden to me. In chapter 4 she becomes a governess, which suits her character most well and made her come to life with more credibility.
I also found her idea of “independence” a queer one. For example, she thinks caring for an invalid as a job would be stealing her independence as she has to tend to the invalid day and night. But if that work gets her money and a sense of satisfaction, isn’t sacrificing one’s free hours a mean to achieve the ultimate independence? I think Christie and I have a different definition of “independence”.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

With this famous sentence the book opens – and if you are like me, you are sick of hearing this one sentence over and over as if it is the most profound sentence in the book.
I actually don’t understand why that phrase is so popular other than the fact that it is a pretty funny mockery. And it’s an example of Austen’s sense of humor.

I watched the BBC serialization (with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth) before I “read” the book. I say “read” because I didn’t really read the book; I just attempted to. Even now I have some struggles understanding a sentence here and an expression there, and I have quite a few vocab problems. Well. And I first “read” the book about four years ago when my English wasn’t fluent at all.

Anyway, back (did we even start?) to the story: The third paragraph already introduces us to the unpleasant chatter of Mrs. Bennet. (I say ‘unpleasant’ because I always have Ms. Alison Steadman’s voice in my head whenever I read Mrs. Bennet’s dialogue. She [Ms. Steadman] is an amazing actress, though.) In the course of the next few chapters, we meet the whole Bennet family: Mr. Bennet (who, for the life of me, I can’t fathom why he married Mrs. Bennet), the head of the house and already used to Mrs. Bennet’s chatter (he prefers his quiet library, though); Mrs. Bennet, who is quite silly; Jane, the eldest daughter and the most beautiful, who is of a gentle and rather timid nature when it comes to expressing her feelings; Elizabeth “Lizzy”, father’s favorite and a young woman of a lively spirit who likes to make fun of many things; Mary, the most plain sister who turns to knowledge and musical accomplishments to make up for her lack of beauty; Catherine “Kitty”, who is quite influenced by Lydia and thus equally silly even though her nature is less daring; Lydia, the youngest and the tallest (“… for though I am the youngest, I’m the tallest.”) who acts without any thought spent on its consequence, and the silliest of all, in my opinion.

We also soon meet up with the heroes of the story, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. (We also meet less-than-nice Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst.)
Mr. Darcy, who made the famous remark “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me” (“… he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, ‘She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other man. …'”, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3) soon changes his mind at the next opportunity he sees her: “But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. …”, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6)

Elizabeth, who overheard Mr. Darcy’s first opinion of her, immediately finds him disagreeable (Jane, for example, would have given him the benefit of doubt) and makes her opinion of him very clear to other ladies. She is irritated when Mr. Darcy attempts to listen in to her conversation with others and stare at her because she can’t understand why Mr. Darcy, who finds her just so tolerable, doesn’t ignore her like she does him. And Lizzy can’t understand that because she isn’t allowing him the room to change. People change, and people’s opinions change. Yet her first impression of him was so strongly negative – supported by the fact that he made it clear that he did not wish to mingle with the people in the ballroom – that she has already made up her mind: Mr. Darcy is a proud, standoffish gentleman she shouldn’t pay a single thought on.
She’s not offended, per se. I think it’s because she doesn’t know him well enough to let his opinion affect her. That’s admirable because I care what a stranger thinks of me. Speaking of which, I’m reminded by Mary’s observation:

“Pride … is a very common failing I believe. … [H]uman nature is very prone to it, and … there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. … Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 5)

Mary also says it is possible to be proud without being vain. So is it also possible to be vain without being proud? Oh dear, I’m afraid that would be me. I care too much about what others think of me while I try not to sound like a show-off.
It is most peculiar. Our society teaches us (at least mine did) that we should not down-play our abilities, that we should showcase them and even exaggerate them (on a CV/résumé for example) but at the same time, it is frowned upon to be boastful. Not exactly ‘frowned upon’, perhaps, but nobody likes a boaster. Such a person just sounds so full of oneself.

I have digressed yet again. Back to the story, in which our heroine judges Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs Louisa Hurst to be not very agreeable persons. Their affection towards Jane, however, seems genuine, which softens Lizzy’s judgment a bit. When Jane gets a nasty cold thanks to her mother and has to remain at Netherfield and Lizzy makes her way to Bingley’s estate, she later observes that Miss Caroline’s and Mrs Hurst’s concerns for Jane seem to be coming from their heart. Of course, it does not escape her notice that Caroline becomes anxious to remove Jane – and thus Lizzy – from Netherfield and from Mr. Darcy’s attentions. Because it is obvious to anyone how hard Caroline Bingley is trying to impress Mr. Darcy.

During her stay, Lizzy does not seem to have become any better acquaintance of Mr. Darcy’s. Whenever he does something thoughtful, she waves if off as him being pretentious or half-hearted. She is puzzled when Darcy does not say what she expected him to but that does not seem to change her opinion of him – not one iota. Oh, Lizzy! We wish you were less stubborn!

In the first chapter, we meet a new boy, Nat Blake, for Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer’s Plumfield (Demi and Daisy also live there). He’s a bit shy and plays fiddle (and was sent by Teddy Laurence). He seems to be a good boy to me.
We also meet other boys who live and learn at Plumfield:
-Tommy Bangs, the “scrapegrace of the school”, a mischievious yet good-natured lad
-Franz, Mr. Bhaer’s nephew, a young and reliable man, who loves “his merry aunt like a mother, for such she […] tried to be to him.”
-Emil, also Mr. Bhaer’s nephew (I forget – are he and Franz brothers?); he wants to go to the sea, which he can’t do till he’s sixteen. He’s called “Commodore” by other boys.
-Rob Bhaer, Jo’s son; always in motion, and a “chatterbox”
-Teddy Bhaer, Jo’s second son; a toddler still and always there for cuddling
-Dick Brown, an 8-year-old with a crooked back and cheery spirit (the latter thanks to Plumfield)
-Adolphus “Dolly” Pettingill,another 8-year-old with bad stutter that is getting better
-Jack Ford, a smart yet “money-loving” boy (Mr. Bhaer calls it an affliction)
-Ned Baker, a fourteen-year-old boy who is clumsy and who bullies younger boys and looks up to bigger ones
-George Cole aka “Stuffy”, an over-indulged boy whose mother spoilt him by giving him lots of sweets; his overstuffed and lazy body became much healthier after coming to Plumfield
-Billy Ward, a thirteen-year-old whose father overworked his brilliant young mind; after suffering from fever, Billy woke up with a blank mental slate that refuses to be filled.

After the introduction of boys (and girl – let’s not forget Daisy!), we follow Nat as he -and by default the readers- get to know the place and the people who run it.

Little Men is of a quite different nature than Little Women, yet they have similarities. Instead of one family, Little Men focuses on many little boys -well, more on some than others- as they play pillow fights, take care of animals, talk about the “Good Man” and fight and bond with one another. Yet both books are quite pious as there is a great deal of talks about God, especially to turn to in cases of hardship and faults. Pedagogically, though, Father Bhaer’s methods work better, I think. The scene in which he tries to help Nat curing his habit of lying was heart-tearing and sobering.

So far, the main focus has been on Nat for the first four chapters. In the fifth chapter, the only girl at Plumfield, Daisy, masters her own play as the boys won’t let her play football with them.

Right now, I’m reading three classic books: Little Men by Louisa May Alcott, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Work: A Story of Experience by Louisa May Alcott. I divided these books in several parts (chop ’em up!) because while I love reading classics, I often get distracted and forget about the chapters I read before.